Poems MacCarthy, Florence Denis

175
A glorious wreath my happy hands might bear;
Soon would the sweetest Persian rose be thine--
Soon would the glory of Golconda's mine
Flash on thy forehead, like a star--ah! me,
In place of these, I bring, with trembling hand,
These fading wild flowers from our native land--
These simple pebbles from the Irish Sea!
108. This sonnet to the poet's wife was prefixed as a dedication to his
first volume of poems.
Underglimpses.
THE ARRAYING.
The blue-eyed maidens of the sea
With trembling haste approach the lee,
So small and smooth, they seem to be
Not waves, but children of the waves,
And as each link`ed circle laves
The crescent marge of creek and bay,
Their mingled voices all repeat--
O lovely May! O long'd-for May!
We come to bathe thy snow-white feet.
We bring thee treasures rich and rare,
White pearl to deck thy golden hair,
And coral beads, so smoothly fair
And free from every flaw or speck;
That they may lie upon thy neck,
This sweetest day--this brightest day
That ever on the green world shone--
O lovely May, O long'd-for May!
As if thy neck and thee were one.